By Peter Carey
Taking a cue from a wonderful teacher I had in seminary, the first reading that I gave my high school Christian Theology students this year was an excerpt from Simone Weil’s book, Waiting on God. The chapter I give them to read is taken from a letter that Weil wrote in 1941 to the Superior of a community of Dominicans who was the head of a Catholic School, offering her advice. The title of the chapter is, “Reflections on the right use of school studies with a view to the love of God.”
In the letter, Weil lays out the virtue of attention, she asserts that cultivating attention is essential for not only one’s studies, but also for developing one’s prayer life.. She gives many surprising areas of school life where this kind of attention can be cultivated. From math problems in geometry, to exercises in Latin, Weil supports even the tedious and difficult parts of school as essential for developing one’s focus and attention. To me, as someone who has spent time studying the theology and practices of the Christian Faith, this assertion by Simone Weil seemed wonderful. Not only does it offer an interesting springboard to discuss Christian Theology, but I also thought it would allow me, as St. Catherine’s School Chaplain, to continue a conversation of the ways that our Faith is practices not only in chapel, but also in the classroom, the art studio, and the playing fields.
Well, my students weren’t buying it. While they thought she made some interesting points, they thought that Weil was overly optimistic about the spiritual value of seemingly endless equations and Latin exercises. They thought that her notion that no concern should be given to the result of all this work, or to grades, was great in the ideal, but they were juniors and seniors, and are anxious about their grades and college, after all. When I remembered my own studies of those areas that were especially difficult, like the 2nd Aorist in Greek, I tended to agree. I thought about my own tedious work in the basement of our apartment in seminary when I struggled to translate 10 or 15 sentences, drinking pot after pot of coffee, only to come to class and realize that I had muffed more of them than I had done correctly. Did these exercises really improve my prayer life? Did they really give me training in attention, or only build my ability to endure tedium?
I returned the next day of class and conceded that some of what we do in our schooling does not immediately seem to bolster our souls, and does not seem to give us spiritual refreshment. However, another emphasis of Weil’s caught my attention: it was her emphasis on joy. Simeon Weil makes the strident claim that joy is as essential to learning as breathing is for a runner. Though they were still a bit skeptical, on the topic of joy my students perked up. They had a lot to say about where they found joy. I shared with them memories of my own high school experience while in concert band I would have to count out several minutes of measures until I finally would play a few loud notes on the tympani. During the many hours of rehearsing, I found great joy enjoying the beautiful sounds that my fellow classmates were creating there in the chilly band room. It was a joyful thing to participate in making music. My students began to discuss the joy in running, not only winning a race, but even in the tedious training. They discussed the joy in volunteering at an underprivileged school, or traveling to the Global South where their assumptions were tested, and where their perspectives were broadened. A few even spoke to the joy they found in their academic classes, with an inspired teacher, or when studying a subject that opened their eyes to a new reality.
When writing her letter, Weil had the view that everything we do in learning could help us to grow in our sense of God’s presence. She was audacious enough to claim that even those Greek or Latin exercises, those geometry proofs, and the other difficult tasks could help us to grow in our attention to our work, and could help us grow in our attention to God. My students were still not willing to agree fully on this point. However, we all could agree that the Spirit was moving in surprising ways and could be sensed by us when we experienced joy in our work. There is an abundance of joy that is there for us to experience, there for us to help others see and feel, the gift has been given to us, it is there for us to be opened. I hope we can take the time to cultivate the Joy that is all around us, even as we move through the tedium of our own difficult exercises!
“Joyful, joyful, we adore thee, God of glory, Lord of love, hearts unfold like flowers before thee, praising thee, their sun above. Melt the clouds of sin and sadness; drive the dark of doubt away; giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day.”
Episcopal Church Hymnal, 1982, Hymn #375
The Rev. Peter M. Carey is the school chaplain at St. Catherine’s School for girls in Richmond, Virginia and is also on the clergy staff at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Richmond. His theological assumptions are challenged and strengthened while leading services for over 800 young people each week and at home with his three children under 5 years old. He blogs at Santos Woodcarving Popsicles.